You're Not Alone
by Clydell Humphries
Summary: Loneliness. That's the worst part about having an attack, to Alan. More than ever, he wants somebody there with him during his time of need, and thankfully, Eric is. AlanxEric if you squint. Set before Kuromyu 2. Oneshot.


**Dedicated to the epicness that is Kuroshitsuji. Which I don't own :(**

**And I apologize if any information in here is wrong... I don't speak Japanese and since the second musical isn't quite subbed yet, it's been a bit of guess work. Regardless, enjoy!**

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><p>There was no telling when another attack would come.<p>

They usually only occurred when the shinigami was particularly tired or stressed, but as Alan had learnt in the past, this was not always the case. He could perhaps be out reaping a soul, or even simply sitting at home, when one chose to strike.

The worst part was that there were no warnings, no little tell-tale hints nor small signs, beforehand.

No… the thorns came whenever they pleased.

It was almost exactly the same routine each time; however it didn't make the experience any less unpleasant. Firstly, he would feel his chest tighten uncomfortably, restricting him from breathing almost completely. He would know at that moment that the attack had begun, but the initial shock made it hard for him to collect his thoughts enough to notify somebody if they weren't nearby.

But there was no point in telling anybody, really. There was nothing that could be done for him in the end. Nothing could stop an attack; it would only cause unneeded stress on others' behalf, which Alan hated.

A few seconds later, the true pain would begin. The fire that spread throughout him at an amazing speed, usually causing him to splutter and gasp some more. He could try to talk, but it would only cause his chest to feel even more constricted, tightening to the point where he was barely conscious. He would go into a trance like state, struggling to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. The fire would only become hotter from then on, every inch of him being infiltrated by it.

More than anything, he wanted somebody there during this part of the attack. It didn't matter who, just so long as he knew that he _wasn't_ alone, that _somebody_ was there with him. But more often than not he stayed silent. It would do no good to get others involved… they already went out of there way enough to support him. What was the use in causing them more unnecessary stress?

However the thought of losing them, Eric in particular, caused Alan to feel panic, only worsening the attack. The thorns used this against him, invading his mind with visions of loneliness and despair. Afterwards, Alan knew they were fake, that it wasn't the reality he lived in. But at the time of the attack, they seemed so genuine, so _real_.

This stage could take any given amount of time. It was known to last up to three hours once, after which Alan had needed several days off work to recover from the trauma of it. Although such occurrences were rare, they were by no means impossible. It depended on how the thorns were feeling, so to speak. Some days they felt like playing with their victim, while others, they simply weren't in the mood and cut to the chase. The trance would end, and Alan would have a few moments of relief; no pain, no emotions... just peace.

But it wouldn't last long. As he began to collect his thoughts, to relax, the pain would return, but it would be entirely different this time. He would let out an agonizing scream as he felt something within him _move_, tearing his insides slowly while making its way just that little bit closer to his heart. It was the master of the attack; the one pulling the strings behind the curtain.

The 'thorn'.

The pain would linger deep within him for some time before slowly fading away into nothingness. It would never completely numb though; that tiny little bit would remain, almost serving as a reminder.

A reminder that nobody, not one, escaped the Thorns of Death.

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><p>Eric Slingby was making his was to Alan's office, paperwork in hand. It was against his will to do this; he <em>loathed <em>giving the extra load to his friend. He knew that it only tired him even more, and with the fatigue came the likelihood of another attack. He knew that stress was the main cause, and he desperately wanted to protect Alan from it at all costs.

He had tried many times to plead with William, requesting that the load be a little lighter on his student. The other had only sighed.

"You may be unaware of this, but I have offered this to Mr Humphries many times before," he replied calmly. "He refuses; he doesn't _want _special treatment. He requests to be treated the same as any other shinigami, and I will respect that." He then adjusted his glasses slightly before looking back at his paperwork, signalling the end of the conversation.

Eric sighed at the memory, the thought of it putting him in a bitter mood. He stopped just outside Alan's office door, knocking lightly. Looking around him curiously, he couldn't help but notice that this section of the dispatch seemed less busy than usual. The only sound heard was the occasional squeak of trolley wheels as one went past on its way to the library.

To his surprise, there was no reply coming from inside the office. No cheerful 'come in!' to greet him as perusual; only silence.

He glanced at a nearby clock; it was only 1:35. He wouldn't have gone home yet, Eric was sure of this. Even if the rest of the shinigami on duty left earlier, Alan would refuse to leave until his shift had ended. It was just in his nature.

Frowning, Eric knocked once more, a little louder this time. Still there was no reply. "Alan?" he called softly. "Are you there?" He listened carefully, and his heart gave a sickening lurch when he heard the sounds of ragged breathing coming from the other side of the door, followed by a whimper. Without wasting another second, he pushed it open roughly, rushing into the small room.

Unlike his own office, Alan's was in perfect order. The books were organized alphabetically, the paperwork was ordered neatly into piles... even the _pens_ were sorted, according to colour. The only thing that seemed out of place was part of the desk, where the usually neat container of writing utensils had been knocked over; perhaps cause of somebody dropping it suddenly?

His attention was drawn to _behind _the desk, where the breathing was coming from. Instead of taking the easier option of making his way around it, he completely pushed it out of the way, revealing Alan.

The brunette looked a mess. The usually nicely combed hair was sticking out in different directions, and his pale face was damp with a mixture of sweat and tears. Small tremors were making their way through him, accompanied by whimpers of pain. His bright green eyes were squeezed shut, the glasses that usually covered them on the floor.

"Alan..." Eric murmured, kneeling down to where his friend had collapsed. Pain went through him; it was never easy to see his student like this. No matter how many times he'd witnessed an attack, the same feeling of pure helplessness was upon him every time. Alan was crying softly now, seeming unaware of Eric's presence.

"Somebody… p-please…" he whispered, "h-help me… _anybody_!"

"Shh…" Eric murmured, picking up Alan's small body and resting him on his lap. Even if he couldn't halt the thorns, he could at least make the attack a little more bearable for his friend. From what he'd learnt from past experiences, the key to helping him was simply by letting him know that he wasn't alone, that somebody was there to comfort him. He gently picked up the discarded glasses and placed them back on the younger shinigami, just in case he should open his eyes.

Eric cautiously wondered if he would need to talk to Alan as well, to further prove his presence. A small gasp from his friend made him realize that he was wasting precious time over the minor decision. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around the smaller one while beginning to whisper words of comfort.

Alan had no idea what was happening. His emotions were telling him that he was alone, that nobody was nearby to help him. But he could feel the strong arms holding him tightly, making him feel a little safer than before. He could hear the angelic voice calling to him, telling him things would be alright. Slowly, the uneasiness lifted, and he cautiously opened his eyes.

He couldn't have been more relieved than he was; it was the one person he needed to see most. "E-Eric?" he whispered lightheaded before falling into another trance. The emotion was fear this time, and he began thrashing about, hitting his mentor as hard as he could.

The thorns were fighting back.

Alarmed, Eric tried to soothe Alan, holding him closer. The younger was in panic, scared that somebody was trying to harm him. "No!" he begged. "Please, get off me!"

Eric's hatred for the thorns grew. How dare they try to turn Alan against him! He would never fight back; he would rather die than hurt him. He placed his hands over Alan's, holding them just tight enough so he could no longer move them. "It's me, Alan," he said in a patient voice, knowing the Alan's strength was no match for his own. "I'm not trying to hurt you. Please, _trust me_."

Alan seemed to calm down after that, using what was left of his strength to fight the thorns, to regain control back in his body once more. His efforts weren't entirely wasted. Though he was still panicked, he was no longer trying to hurt Eric.

Then, the pain ended. The fire, after reaching its peak, smouldered and was put out completely. Still in a daze, Alan took in lungful's of the air around him, thankful that he could breathe properly once more.

He opened his eyes, sitting up shakily. He breathed in deeply another time, looking up at Eric's face so full of concern. "Eric..." he murmured, feeling nothing but guilt, "I'm so sorry!" He let out a strangled sob, collapsing into Eric's arms.

"Why are apologizing?" he demanded, holding the brunette closer to him. "This isn't your fault; you can't choose whether or not you have the attacks. But it doesn't matter, it's all over now." At the back of his mind, there was something, something that he had forgotten. He didn't have enough time to remember what exactly, though.

Alan looked up, face weary. "I'm sort you had to see that," he whispered. "I'm sorry you have to see my like _this_... but it's not over."

Eric didn't have enough time to ask what he meant,. As soon as the words let Alan's mouth, he cried out in agony, clutching where his heart was. He let out a groan, eyes squeezing shut once more. His muscles tensed for a moment, a shudder going through him.

Everything that Eric longed to say seemed to dissolve, he could only watch in shock. It was then that he remembered; there was always that final stage the attack. When the thorn caused the true damage that was slowly killing Alan.

For a few more seconds, his face was scrunched up in pain. Then he relaxed, returning into Eric's arms once more. Another moment passed before he was able to take in another ragged breath. His eyes opened once more, revealing so many emotions. Shame, loneliness, despair, sadness…

"Alan," Eric whispered, hugging the smaller one gently. "I-I was scared I'd lost you for a moment there."

The younger shinigami turned away from him, eyes sorrowful. "I'm sorry," he muttered, unable to look at him directly.

Eric snorted. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he promised, glad to find that his voice was stronger than he thought it would be.

Alan shook his head slightly, ashamed that he had been seen like that. In front of his best friend, no less. "No... y-you shouldn't have had to see me like that!" he denied. "I'm so sor-"

"Apologize one more time," Eric cut in, "and I swear to... Alan?"

Alan had begun to whimper, holding his hand to his chest once more. He took in a sharp intake of breath before speaking again. "It hurts," he mused.

Eric felt a pain like he'd never experienced before grow within him as he saw his friend in this condition. The worst part was that the thorns were inside Alan, making it impossible for him to fight them. "I know, Alan. But you'll be fine, I promise,"

"I hate this," he mumbled, eyes closing. "The worst part is... w-when the thorns try to convince me that you're not here, Eric."

Eric chuckled, giving Alan a quick kiss on the forehead. "Well don't you worry about that, my friend," he replied simply, "I'm not going anywhere. You're not alone."

"Th-that's good to know... I-I don't think I'd be able to m-manage fighting this by myself," Alan said in a daze, barely able to continue speaking.

Eric noticed this. "You need to get some rest, Alan," he pointed out.

"…probably." To Eric's surprise, Alan sat up, trying to stand. His legs quickly gave way though, and he stumbled.

"Whoa!" Eric exclaimed, catching him before he fell to the ground. "Where do you think you're going?"

Alan opening his eyes, staring blankly up at Eric. "…bed?"

Eric chuckled, placing one of his hands under Alan's legs to lift him up. "Then allow me to be the one who gets you there safely," He offered. "In your state I doubt you'd get any further past the door to your office."

Alan giggled softly, allowing himself to relax in Eric's arms a little more. "Thank you, Eric. It's good to know that… I'm not alone. I'm lucky to have you."

Before the older shinigami could reply, Alan was asleep, exhaustion finally getting the better of him. Eric sighed, beginning the journey back to Alan's flat.

Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel comforted, having his friend resting in his arms. Even if he didn't know it, Alan was Eric's whole world. His light, the one who, no matter the occasion, could make him smile.

And it was then that he vowed; he wouldn't allow his light to be extinguished. He would beat the thorns and save Alan, no matter what the cost may be.

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><p><strong>Err… sappy fic was sappy? Haha, I couldn't help myself… I love these two. So if people like this fic then I might write more… after all there isn't enough Alan and Eric love on this site!<strong>

**And if you notice any spelling/grammar errors, feel free to tell me, because I almost ALWAYS miss a few, no matter how many times I proof read my work. Hehe.**

**~Clide**


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